Silence
by Darkflares
Summary: Soundwave vows his loyalty... by relinquishing his voice in a grisly ritual. Prime-verse. Rated for dark themes/robot gore.


_**Author's Note:** From the moment in 'Prime' when Starscream mentioned that Soundwave had taken a 'vow of silence', I was immediately fascinated. No formal explanation of the circumstances of this vow were ever given though, so I decided to imagine for myself... This fic is the dark, borderline-creepy product of those thoughts. XD_

**_Notes:_**

_(In Season 3 of 'Prime', Soundwave coins his signature line, stating: "Soundwave superior, Autobots inferior." However, I find it hard to believe that he would break his vow just to taunt the Autobots. Therefore, in the recesses of my head-canon, I like to think that he was simply playing back another sound-byte, possibly even of his own voice before he took said vow.)_

_(Soundwave's origin and caste standing vary by continuity, and these details are left very vague in the Prime/Aligned universe. The only information we're really given is that he met Megatron in the pits of Kaon, where they fought and nearly tied. As such, I expanded a bit on that idea.)_

_**Timeline Info: **Prime-verse. Takes place on Cybertron, in the early days of the war._

_**Warnings: **Dark, robot gore._

_**Disclaimer: **I do not own Transformers or its characters... I am merely a fan-girl who lives with a herd of creepy plot bunnies._

* * *

"It is not necessary, Soundwave."

Megatron studied the blank visor, as though he might see through the facade, but was met only with his own murky reflection.

"It is my wish, Lord Megatron. A ritual of ancient Cybertron; affirmation of my allegiance," the other answered evenly. His voice was layered and smooth, almost melodically so.

The Vow of Silence was indeed a ritual of ancient times-however, it had been archived as a grisly and barbarous piece of history. Megatron was familiar with the custom: a show of submission, committed by warriors and slaves alike to honor their superiors. To take it was to relinquish not just one's voice, but one's own _will_; to dedicate oneself _only_ to the will of one's master.

The warlord's optics narrowed thoughtfully. Soundwave had proven his loyalty and value to the Decepticon cause a thousand times over... and he had more than demonstrated his worth as a warrior when they had first met in the arena-where the drone had nearly defeated Megatron himself. If any of his soldiers needed convince him of their allegiance (a certain seeker came to mind...), it would not have been his stoic lieutenant, whose devotion already bordered on fanaticism.

He studied the unyielding mask a moment longer...

"Are you certain? This will not dampen your performance on the battlefield?" he asked finally.

"Not in the least, my lord. I will still be capable of communication via commlink - a subtler method, less prone to detection by enemy scouts or technology," Soundwave replied levelly, an adamance in his tone.

"Very well then," the warlord conceded.

He knew that Soundwave's analytical mind would have mapped out a counterpoint to any argument he could make, and that further attempts to debate the matter would only postpone the inevitable. A burning fulfillment flickered momentarily in the warlord's spark as he considered this, a feeling of vindication and satisfaction. He couldn't help but enjoy bearing witness to the depths his follower's devotion... For so long, Megatron's voice had meant nothing. He had labored mindlessly for his superiors, little more than automated machinery... Now he knew respect, admiration...

"Thank you, Lord Megatron," Soundwave maintained his mechanical tone, but he spoke fervently. "I shall never fail you, so long as my spark burns."

_...Power._

The drone prostrated himself before his master, sinking to his hands and knees, helm bowed. Megatron watched him in silence, faceplates indifferent.

"My life is yours, and your desires shall become as my own. _Yours_ will be my only voice, forevermore," Soundwave repeated the age-old vow, his words emphatic with meaning.

"Rise."

The lithe mech obeyed wordlessly and pulled himself up, bowing his head once more.

Megatron took a step closer, until they stood barely a servo's length apart. Responding to the cue, Soundwave drew back his head, baring the entirety of his neck.

With no waver or hesitation, the warlord dug his sharpened digits into the exposed throat plating.

Soundwave gave no scream or gasp as his throat was pierced, nor did he resist; this too was part of the vow... He must not make a sound during this painful procedure, lest his oath be broken. The words he had just recited were to be the last he ever spoke...

Megatron's fingers clenched, peeling away the external armor. With a quick rip, he tore the plating loose, letting it clatter to the floor. Beneath were the mech's inner workings: fuel lines, circuitry, wiring... and vocalizer.

The drone's ventilation became halting, but he remained silent and still.

Swiftly and decisively, Megatron buried his fingers inside the other's throat, feeling them grow slick with energon. The tangle of fuel lines and wiring surrounding the vocalizer were fragile and vital... The Decepticon leader deftly avoided these, arranging his digits carefully so as not to cause any ruptures. He grasped the speech organ, holding it securely... Then, with a swift, sudden movement, he withdrew his hand, ripping the vocalizer from its housing and letting it drop to the floor with a wet _thud_.

Energon sprayed the warlord's chassis, bursting viscerally from the torn lines that had until now been connected to the vocalizer. The broken tubing and wires dangled limply from Soundwave's open throat, leaking their fuel over his body. Soundwave lurched forward, staggering. His frame was wracked with a series of sharp spasms, and his balance began to fail as he neared collapse.

Megatron moved to steady him, holding the bleeding mech by the shoulders so as to keep him standing. He peered once more into the drone's blank countenance, shuttering his optics in acknowledgement of the other's sacrifice.

Soundwave's gleaming visor stared back, unreadable. Megatron did not speak, and his third-in-command no longer _could_... The only sounds to be heard were of hoarse venting, and the steady drip of energon against the metal floor.

A poignant moment passed; an understanding and a recognition. Soundwave had been the first to stand at the gladiator's side, the first to join him in the culmination of an uprising... Now, as their planet pitched with the tremors of war, they stood at the forefront, having risen from dirt and rust...

As the war had carried on, coming to sway in the Decepticons' favor, more had turned out to join them... from high and low castes alike. Many-such as Starscream-simply craved power and glory. Yet to those like Megatron and Soundwave-the starved, beaten ex-slaves of a corrupt system-the taste of power was infinitely deeper. That shared understanding had resulted in a sense of kinship, of camaraderie and trust... Truth Be told, Megatron could think of no Decepticon-of no _Cybertronian_-in whom he placed a greater trust... Such things did not come easily to the leader of an army built on manipulation and subterfuge.

The warlord slowly removed one hand from the other's shoulder, reaching to activate his comm unit.

"Knock Out, report to my chambers immediately."

Knock Out was a recent addition to the ranks, and hardly Megatron's first choice of whom to entrust with Soundwave's care. However, medics were in short supply at present... Hook, who had served as chief of the medical facilities, had been taken captive by Cybertronian Defense forces several cycles ago. They were left to make do with inexperienced field medics, most of whom had little knowledge beyond basic first-aid... Knock Out, despite his sadistic inclinations and pompous disposition, had thus been a welcome addition.

Megatron tapped the comm offline, returning his full attentions to his lieutenant.

Soundwave was trembling faintly, and looked as though he might slip into stasis lock from the shock on his sensors. Still, he remained shakily upright, determinedly supporting the majority of his own weight.

"Easy...," Megatron said curtly... but with an uncharacteristically soft edge.

Soundwave inclined his head submissively, inadvertently causing a fresh surge of energon to loose from his throat. Another spasm came...

Megatron's grip tightened on the quivering mech's shoulders. The Decepticon warlord was not prone to such sentiment, but he felt a deep gratitude towards the oldest of his comrades... A more sincere loyalty could never be asked for.

...

The mechanical doorway of Megatron's chambers receded as the called-for medic approached. Knock Out entered the room warily, expecting that he had been summoned for punishment. Doctor or no, it was little secret that he tended to take a certain cruel pleasure in dismantling and operating on his squirming patients. He was not stupid enough to be obvious in his torture (at least not while the boss was around), or risk medical complications, but, well... _accidents_ happened. He wondered if Lord Megatron might be about to call him out on one such incident...

_Only a few cycles into this gig and I _already_ regret not taking that opening at that body shop in Iacon, instead... _Knock Out mused with an inward sigh._ I guess it's not like I had a lot of options... Cybertron's going up in flames, and I'd rather count myself among the torch_ers_ than the torch_ees_._

The medic knew that siding with Megatron would be his best chance of riding out the storm. The Decepticons had recently made an aggressive push, taking several key cities and crippling the senate's forces... That had been Knock Out's cue to pledge his _deep_, _abiding_ _loyalty_ to the inevitable victors.

_Still, the Decepticons sure seemed a lot more _glamorous_ on those holovid broadcasts...__  
_

As he approached his leader, the grounder found his meta shocked back into the present. Megatron was holding up a slumped figure, who was bleeding rather severely from the throat. Both of their frames were soaked messily with energon, and they were standing in an ever-expanding puddle of the bright-aqua fuel. The low, rattling sound of forced ventilation told Knock Out that the wounded mech was still online... Upon closer inspection, he recognized the figure as the Decepticon third-in-command... Soundwave, wasn't it?

_Huh. Always thought Screamy would get himself slagged first. I'm kind of disappointed... Not as disappointed as all the 'Cons that have been putting in bets on it are going to be, though... _The medic smirked to himself at the thought, but quickly resumed his composure before the expression could be noticed.

His optics shifted nervously over the additional sprays of energon decorating the floor, coming to rest on on a mangled device that lay in a small pool of the substance.

_Frag, what happened in here? This place is _sick_..._

The Decepticon leader at last turned his attentions to Knock Out, his gaze landing scathingly on the small mech. His narrowed optics made clear his meaning: _'Do not test my patience.'_

_Don't have to tell _me_ twice._

"How may I serve, Lord Megatron?" the medic asked uncertainly, avoiding eye contact.

"Patch this up, fool," the ex-gladiator spat, nodding towards Soundwave's torn throat. "And be _grateful_ I do not offline you for your stalling."

"Yes sir," Knock Out answered, biting back sarcasm; it wouldn't pay to take chances when old Megs was in such a foul temper...

Megatron rested one hand on Soundwave's back and the other at his abdomen, then prompted him to recline. He carefully lowered the mech to the floor, so that his frame rested flat. Knock Out moved closer and knelt to examine the drone, pulling a standard medical kit from subspace.

"Wha-?" the medic cut himself short as his optics fell on the vacant cavity in his patient's throat. Realization dawned on him... He glanced nervously at Megatron, who glowered warningly in response.

Knock Out returned to his assignment without a further word, his master hovering forebodingly at his side all the while. He attended to the bleeding first, then injected a shot of energon to replace the fuel that now flowed in tiny rivulets over the mech's chestplates. He hesitated at the ruined wiring inside the wound... Most of it had interfaced with the vocalizer, an organ which had apparently been rent from its workings and left in a grisly wreck on the floor. The medic somehow doubted that Megatron had gone to all that trouble tearing it out, just have him reinstall it...

He pulled a scalpel and a soldering tool from the med kit, turning to the Decepticon leader in askance.

"My lord, do you want me to...?" he held up the instruments, indicating that he meant to permanently seal off the damaged mechanics.

"Get on with it, dolt," the larger mech hissed.

Taking this as approval, Knock Out picked up the scalpel and dipped it into Soundwave's open throat. He pulled one of the now-purposeless wires taut, cutting it near its base. Setting the freed section aside, he moved to cut the next wire, and the next... on and on, until they had all been reduced to sparking stubs. His patient did not struggle or thrash, and shook only faintly, remaining almost docile for what should have been an agonizing procedure.

_Why, it's hardly any fun..., _Knock Out thought poutingly. His fear was dampening his enthusiasm for the work... After all, if Megatron had no problem casually dismembering his third-in-command, it was hard to imagine medics enjoyed much safety.

_And here I had been hoping for benefits and job security, _he thought bitterly.

With the soldering tool, he melted the ends of each wire-stub, cauterizing them to ensure that no stray electrical currents would be loosed in Soundwave's frame should he signal the use of his vocal programming. Once the medic was certain that he had tended to all of the internal issues, he turned again to his leader.

"The ah... plating... Is it salvageable?" he inquired nervously.

In answer, Megatron stooped to pick something from the floor, where it rested at his heels. Handing the object over, he raised his brow in an expression that seemed both a challenge and a threat.

Knock Out examined the piece. It was the throat plate... ruptured and twisted, contorted almost beyond recognition.

"I'll have to reforge it. It'll take half a solar-cycle...," he said tentatively.

"Then go do it," was the flat, impatient response.

"Er... Yes, my lord."

Knock Out was only too happy to leave Megatron's chambers behind... while the majority of his internals were still present and intact.

...

A sense of choking overcame Soundwave as the medic cut the vocal wiring in his throat. It was an agony beyond any he had endured in the past... as though he were being slowly, excruciatingly decapitated, snip by tiny snip. He could no longer have screamed if he'd tried to; his voice was gone, and the amputated wires assured that it could never be returned...

The Decepticon lieutenant continued to tremble, though he fought to stifle it. He wished to appear stalwart, unfazed. He wished to become an _unfailing_ weapon in his master's repertoire... this desire stood alone as his priority-one.

His existence had been meaningless-without reason-before he had met Megatron. For cycles, he had fought in the pits of Kaon, taken the scraps of energon his victories had afforded him, and spent each moment ensuring his own continued functioning.

He had not triumphed in the pits by strength, but strategy; he watched and waited, collecting information on the arena's rising stars... and, with the aid of his mini-cons, using it to tear them apart. That was his objective, always: information. He gathered it unceasingly, then analyzed, cross-referenced, dissected, expounded, verified... He had learned countless things in his quest for knowledge. He had learned that their was social unrest; that many Cybertronians considered the current political system oppressive and unjust. He had gleaned that the senate built sadistic tools of warfare for use against its own populace. He saw for himself the decay in Cybertron's roots... the death of will and strength, the festering of weakness and passivity... And he heard tell of a particular dissident, whose notoriety climbed steadily with each passing solar cycle.

_Megatronus._

Suddenly, Soundwave's broad hunt for knowledge became keenly focused. He gathered all the intel he could find on this rebel. Evidently, he had come from the lower castes, a common laborer, until some incident had caused him to take flight to Kaon. There, he had risen to fame as a great gladiator. He had used this newfound status to rally the downtrodden citizenry of the fallen city, urging them to break free of their shackles, to rise against corruption.

This revolutionary had fascinated him... A warrior of great strength and skill, who used these talents not simply to gain frivolous standing in the gladiatorial pits... but to stir up societal change-to slow the internal rot brought about by Sentinel Prime and his council.

When they had at last met in the arena, their fight had been so close as to nearly end in a draw. Though all of the data he had gathered on Megatronus served Soundwave well, the battle had still ended in the other's favor. Death was the inevitable consequence of losing in the Kaon pits... he had always known this.

Yet inexplicably, his life had been spared.

He had pledged himself to Megatronus that day, and become the first of the gladiator's followers-the group that would one day form the foundation of the Decepticons.

He had found reason.

Now, as ever, he wished only to serve his master, who had given him more than he could ever hope to repay... And who in time would do the same for Cybertron.

The medic (Soundwave's roster data confirmed him as a new recruit; designation: 'Knock Out') continued to work, each small fidget of his fingers an agony to his patient.

_I will bear it..._

Now a soldering tool was raised... A fiery pain coursed through the tight web of sensors in the drone's neck as his vocal wiring was cauterized. There was truly no going back now-he would never speak again. The anguish nearly brought him to stasis lock...

_...for you, Lord Megatron._

_The sound of words being exchanged, followed by steady pedefalls... Not__ weighted enough to belong to his master... Knock Out's, then. The shuttering of a door..._

_Silence._

"Soundwave...," Megatron spoke softly, almost in a whisper.

The drone turned toward the voice dutifully, though it made his throat feel as if it were aflame...

"At ease. Rest."

Soundwave allowed himself to fall back to the floor, but his optics remained attentively focused on his leader...

"Is your commlink operable?" the words were low and steady.

He felt the warlord's large fingers entwine roughly, but consolingly, with those of his right hand. The gesture almost stunned him, but he was pacified in the knowledge that his master valued him enough to expend concern for his well-being...

Soundwave activated his internal commlink systems, using them to silently answer the query-as he would answer _all_ queries from this point on.

::Affirmative, Lord Megatron.::

* * *

_**Author's Note: **I had an incredibly hard time with this one. I've never written Soundwave before, and I have to admit... it's hard to write a character who doesn't talk. I hope it turned out alright. DX_

_I debated whether or not to include Knock Out's perspective, worrying that it strayed too far from the 'tone' of the other segments. In the end, I decided to keep it, hoping to show a stark contrast between Soundwave's boundless dedication and the more... 'lackluster' motives of some of the other Decepticons. XD_

_And yes... pairing-wise, this is one of those 'if-you-squint' kind of stories. I meant it to be interpreted either way, depending on your preference. XD_

_Hope you enjoyed it! Reviews are loved! :)_


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